The moment Jack opened the trunk on that quiet morning, thick fingers separated the thin metal miniblind slats at the neighbor's window. Irritated by the surveillance, Lyla turned her back.

Nosey drunk.

She reached into the trunk, grabbed two handfuls of plastic packaging, and tugged at a 25-pound bag of rock salt.

"Ooof. This... is heavy." She grunted.

"I got that," said Jack. "Take the gas can."

"What about your shoulder?"

He winced when he cradled the bag against his injured shoulder, then lifted the second bag. "Close the trunk, okay?"

She slammed the trunk then led him to the shed. She opened the wooden door, tucking the gas can beside the lawnmower.

He dropped the bags of rock salt against the wall then eyed Ryan's collection of lawn tools. "Prob'ly be a good idea to take the pick. And a couple of shovels." He seized the handle of a familiar shovel. "Good times," he said sarcastically.

"I wish there was another way," she murmured, not expecting a reply.

He returned the shovel to its assigned spot in the corner.

She cleared her throat and asked, "So,... when are we doing this?"

"I'm waiting on Wes."

"What? You told him?"

"No. Did you tell anyone?"

"No!"

It dawned on her. "A gun?" she asked. "He's getting you a gun?"

Jack turned toward her house, avoiding eye contact. "We're definitely gonna get arrested. You get that, right? Maybe even end up in jail."

"Maybe not," Lyla replied.

"I'm not gonna let us die over this." He paused, then faced her. "Did you see the size of that dude with the ponytail? And he might be the small one. How many guys are on that crew?"

"So you got a gun?"

"For protection. Not to extract revenge."

Under ordinary circumstances, she might have smirked but at this juncture, she couldn't force a smile.

His frustration flared. "We're definitely gonna have company up there. And we need to hold them off. Didn't Clarisse's letter say it's not gonna work if the body isn't totally burned?"

She nodded.

"So if you got a better idea than a gun..."

She didn't. Not at the moment.

"I mean, I don't even know how we're gonna get over that fence. And digging up a coffin? Just me and you? How long is that gonna take?"

She had no comfort to offer.

"We could use some help," he said.

"Jack, we can't tell anybody."

"They're gonna find out anyway."

"And how are you gonna do that?" she asked. "Just casually mention it? Hey, guys. Let's drive out to the mountains, dig up a grave and set the body on fire. Come on, Jack. Be real."

He leaned his forehead against the doorframe, eyes clenched.

"You can't tell anybody about this," she said. "Promise me."

"If you want a ride to the hospital," he said, "We better get moving.

"Jack, promise me."

........

Following the afternoon session, the girls powered on their phones while crossing the atrium.

Shaniece said, "What is up with Matthew and that self-schema mess? Is that what he said? Self- schema?"

Lyla shrugged. "What was he even talking about?"

Natalie sighed. "You guys are so damn lucky." She gave Lyla a friendly punch in the arm that knocked her off-balance. "Couple more days and you never have to listen to Matthew's bullshit ever again."

Lyla rubbed her arm.

When they exited the building, Darcy's car was not in its usual parking space at the end of the walkway. Lyla buttoned her denim jacket, then looked at Natalie who wore nothing but short sleeves to shield her arms from the crisp air.

"Aren't you cold?" Lyla asked.

"Big girls don't get cold. Bony little thing like you got no insulation."

Lyla stopped and texted: Where are you?

Darcy: I'm around the corner. Some dude made me move.

Lyla paused.

Darcy: Want me to drive around the block again?

Lyla: Nah. Just stay there.

Halfway down the walkway, Natalie diverted onto the pathway to the parking lot. "Later, haters."

At the street, Shaniece waved. "See you tomorrow." She headed west.

Lyla walked in the opposite direction when she noticed Darcy's car parked near the corner. On her way down the sidewalk, she checked her phone, expecting a follow-up message from Jack. Perhaps an update on the gun and a suggested date for the salting and burning ceremony. But there was none.

Out of her peripheral vision, she saw a dark SUV cruising down the street beside her.

"Lyla. Hey, Lyla," the driver called.

She didn't recognize the guy wearing white-framed sunglasses and a backward ballcap.

Who's this douchebag in white sunglasses?

"Lyla." He smiled, waving her over. He glanced toward the sidewalk behind her.

In the moment it took for the realization to set in, someone gripped Lyla's shoulder strap and threw her to the ground. She hit the pavement hard. Lyla turned, horrified to feel the savagery brimming in Rose's wild eyes. She grabbed fistfuls of Lyla's jacket and dragged her toward the SUV.

The driver shoved open the back door.

Lyla latched onto the vehicle's rocker panel, desperate to resist, and choked out an ear-piercing scream. She should have listened to her dad. Her Mace was inaccessible, tucked away in her bookbag.

"Get in there!" Rose said, fairly frothing at the mouth.

Lyla wriggled and kicked. "Get off me!" she shouted. "Help!"

"Gimme a hand with this," Rose growled at the driver.

Unexpectedly, Rose released her grip. Lyla was free.

Natalie's voice boomed, "Not today, bitch!" as she flung the woman to the sidewalk. She towered over Lyla, her face flushed, offering her thick hand. "You okay, girl?"

Lyla scrambled to her feet as the driver yanked the door closed, the SUV screaming away from the curb.

"Look out!" Lyla hollered as Rose launched herself at Natalie, knife drawn. The blade sliced deep into the meat of Natalie's thick right forearm.

If Rose had expected Natalie to retreat, cowering in submission, judging by the "uh oh" look on her face, Rose had badly miscalculated. Natalie barreled forward, infuriated, and with one violent thrust, hurled a devastating left hook that cracked Rose's jaw. Her glassy eyes rolled back in their sockets before her head struck the pavement.

Lyla gasped as the deep laceration through Natalie's muscle tissue erupted with a fountain of blood.

Semi-conscious, on her hands and knees, a scarlet stream spilled from Rose's craggy face.

"Worst fuckin' mistake of your life!" Natalie roared, clamping her incision. She delivered a wicked knee strike to her assailant's head that sent the witch rolling across the sidewalk onto her back. Her life was spared by security personnel and medics who descended onto the scene to render medical aid and to restrain Natalie.

Lyla emerged from the numbing shock of the explosive incident as Darcy came running with open arms and eyes wide.

"Oh, my God!" she repeated over and over again as she held her best friend tightly in her arms. "Oh, my God. Lyla!"

With police sirens shrieking, Lyla whispered into Darcy's ear, "I'm okay." She licked the blood from her lips while watching the limp body of Rose Ames strapped to a bodyboard.

She felt a presence beside her. Looking up at Lyla with her black, lifeless eyes, stood the curly-haired child. "He's gonna be mad," she said with a defiant scowl.